Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“Sam picked out the decor. I think it fulfilled all his fantasies.” She felt his hands lightly caressing her shoulder blades, moving up under the thick chignon to knead her neck.

“Del, I—”

“It’s all right, love,” he said quietly.

“It’s just that I feel more embarrassed than I did last night.” She gave a shaky laugh. “That probably sounds quite silly to you.”

“No, not really.” He turned her gently to face him and cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now you know what my body is like and what lovemaking is about.” He grinned, unable to keep from teasing her. “At least, I think you know something about my body. Did you keep your eyes shut all the time?”

She shook her head against his shoulder.

“And now you know what it’s like to have me inside of you. To be honest, Chauncey, I’ve thought of little else all day. You are adorable, do you know that?”

Damn you! I don’t want to become close to you! I don’t want to spend time on this wretched boat!

“Now, sweetheart, I’m going to undress you and make very slow, very thorough love to you. If you’re still hungry later, well, I’ll send to the kitchen for something.”

She was afraid, but he couldn’t guess the true reason. She was afraid that he would make her body respond to him. It had begun the previous night, until he had hurt her. But it wouldn’t hurt anymore. His hands were lightly caressing her sides, moving slowly upward until his fingers were stroking the sides of her breasts. Slowly he lowered his head and gently pressed his mouth against hers. His lips were warm and soft and she thought vaguely that he tasted sweet, so sweet.

Fight him, you fool! You can’t stop him, but you don’t have to enjoy it!

She felt his tongue glide over her lips, tracing lightly, then gently probing to gain entrance. His hands held her head steady, and he continued kissing her until he felt her begin to ease. His tongue lightly stroked hers, and he felt her shudder. Progress, he thought, at last. Now for all her damned clothes.

“Do you like the way that feels?” he asked softly in her mouth.

Chauncey’s eyes were tightly closed, and it was a battle not to clasp him more closely against her. Her head nodded, without her permission.

Delaney stepped back, his fingers on the fastening hooks of her blue velvet mantle. Her eyes flew open and she stared up at him helplessly. Back to the beginning, he thought, kissing her again as his fingers finished their work.

By the time Chauncey was standing in the middle of the luxurious stateroom clad only in her lacy drawers and shift, she was pale with anxiety. She turned away when Delaney began to remove his own clothes with great rapidity. She was fingering the soft velvet draperies, staring blindly out over the water, when his hands closed over her bare shoulders.

She closed her eyes again. I’m supposed to be in love with him. I can’t let him suspect!

She felt his arm slip around her thighs and she clutched at his bare shoulders as he swung her up into his arms. His flesh felt so very warm and smooth. He held her with one arm while he swept back the velvet bedcover.

He laid her on her back and she found herself staring into his eyes, momentarily shaken by the deep tenderness she read in the golden depths. And something else. Desire. Her eyes drifted downward to the pale golden tufts of hair on his chest, to the ridges of muscle over his belly. She drew in a sharp breath at the proof of his desire. His thick swollen manhood thrust from the dense hair at his groin. “Del,” she said, her voice

jerky and pathetically wavering to her own ears.

He slipped onto the bed beside her. “No, love, don’t be afraid. Just lie still and enjoy. All right?”

She didn’t reply, nor did he really expect her to. A husband’s responsibility, he thought ruefully. Seducing his wife. He wanted her naked against him. Now. She didn’t fight him as he slipped off her shift and eased her drawers down her hips.

When he pulled her naked against the length of him, he felt her stiffen, then become pliant, like a rag doll.

“No, I won’t let you be a martyr,” he said hoarsely.

She felt the determination in his every kiss, every movement of his hands. His fingers were gliding over her buttocks, splaying inward to touch her. She caught her breath at the explosion of warmth in her belly.

“Del, please, don’t! Please . . .”

Now his fingers were stroking upward toward her belly, burrowing into the soft mat of curls, probing her gently until she felt her body begin to take on a will of its own. He dipped his head to gently nuzzle her nipples before drawing on them, suckling her.

“Please don’t what?” he teased her gently as his finger slipped inside her. He sucked in his breath. She was hot, her soft woman’s flesh moist and inviting.

“I don’t know!” she gasped, staring in bewilderment into his eyes. “I don’t like that!”

“Liar.” His forefinger eased in more deeply. He could feel her muscles contracting about his finger, and his manhood pulsed in response against her thigh.